It was dawn and I was tired. I had driven around in circles for hours, burning rubber off the darkness. Now the sun was up and I was so tired I almost drove into the ditch. I pulled over and got out and walked around a bit. It was a bit cold and a little warm. I shivered. I might have heard my cell phone ring at one point. I think I let it ring. I’m not sure. I just remember walking.

There were train tracks there. They led nowhere. I had been down them both ways, and they just kinda stop at nowhere in particular. There are a couple people with hay in their mouths, sitting on a bench or on the concrete base of a silo. They’ve got denim overalls, of course, and they’re well-read in existentialist literature. Ha, no, I’m just kidding. They listen to Miley Cyrus and argue about the death of bluegrass. At some point they have a duel with cap guns. No one wins.

Eventually I get back into the car and drive home, a block away. The whole town is ten blocks wide, or something ridiculous like that. Something like a square mile, give or take a kilometer. The town is small. Beyond small. Very small. I drove around it for hours. And now I’m tired. I go home. I go inside. I go up the stairs. I go to sleep. I never wake up. No, wait, I did. Yeah, I did.